The Thing About the Thing
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Post-ep for "Middle Man". Hotch and Garcia finally get into the "thing" she did regarding her new paperless system. Hotch/Garcia


_**Author's Note: Hello, wonderful readers. We have just a few announcements for everyone today.**_

_**First, please remember to try and spare a few moments over the upcoming three weeks and VOTE for your favorite authors and stories in the "Profiler's Choice Awards" at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. You have through the end of November 30, 2010 to let your vote be heard and we want to hear from each one of you. If you don't know much about forums, links can be found through either my profile (ilovetvalot) or my awesome co-author (tonnie2001969). Remember, anyone that wants to help advertise the awards has our unending gratitude and there is also a short blurb you can use on our profile pages.**_

_**Second, we also have a new fortune cookie prompt for you at the forum compliments of our "Fortune Cookie Friday post (Sorry, we forgot to advertise it yesterday). And we also have great new interviews with several of our nominees. Today, we are "getting to know" the following: -Sweetheart.X, LostinOblivion, MissAmieB, nebula2 and JazziePerson. More interviews are coming soon!**_

_**Many thanks to everyone still reading these stories. We really appreciate you. Now, on with the show!**_

_**This is a post-ep for "Middle Man".**_

* * *

**The Thing about the Thing**

There were some aspects of his job that Aaron Hotchner occasionally despised.

The dinners he was expected to attend periodically in order to rub elbows with DC's elite...the endless array of useless reports which no one read but were nevertheless demanded by the higher ups...and the not-so-easy task of infrequently questioning his subordinates on choices and actions they'd taken on the job, the latter of which he was now required by the Bureau to do.

And this was not just any subordinate. This was Garcia.

Pausing outside Penelope Garcia's closed office door, he inhaled deeply, well aware that he was about to commence on what had proven to be on more than one occasion a difficult feat at best. Getting answers from the most diabolical unsub had often demonstrated itself to be an easier duty than coaxing a coherent response from a reluctant Garcia. And he didn't expect this foray into the technical analyst's lair to be any less of a challenge than his team's latest case in Indiana had been. At least those monsters had left a trail of bodies for him to follow.

Penelope would never be so careless.

Knocking politely once on her office door, he heard her muffled invitation to enter. Sending one last hasty prayer heavenward that this would be a quick, painless process, he could swear he almost heard the Almighty laughing at his request.

Pushing inside the dimly lit office, he blinked at the glare the many computer screens produced. Quickly adjusting to the change in light, he closed the door behind him. "Penelope?" he asked in slight confusion when his eyes didn't immediately find the familiar form of his employee behind her desk. And then he had to grin when she crawled from beneath one of the tables along the far wall.

"I'm here, captain," Penelope said brightly, her red head rising from underneath the table, waving her left drill-laden hand in the air. "Just doing some readjustments to my system."

Offering her his hand, Hotch helped the woman to her feet. "You know we have maintenance crews to do that for you, Garcia."

"Oh, poo...I knew what I wanted done. Besides, the last one I had in here told me that drilling holes in the wall constituted defacing government property," she said with a roll of her vibrant eyes. "Much easier to make those pesky changes myself anyway," she shrugged. "What brings you to my tangled web world, Boss Man?"

"I'm here to talk about 'the thing', Garcia," Hotch said, adopting his most intimidating facial expression...the one that convinced unsubs and witnesses alike to spill their proverbial guts. Of course, he knew from experience that Penelope Garcia didn't frighten so easily.

"What thing?" Garcia asked innocently. Over the years, she'd honed the art of playing dumb into a masterpiece most blondes would envy.

"The 'thing' I said we'd talk about when we finished the case," Hotch replied evenly, lifting his hand holding the lightweight iPad in the air.

"Ohhhh," Pen said uncomfortably, her eyes suddenly dropping, "That thing."

"That's the thing, Garcia," Hotch nodded gravely. "Care to share how you appropriated the funds for these?" he asked, keeping his voice soft.

"Well, sir, the thing about the thing is that you shouldn't ask too many questions," she replied vaguely, taking a half step backward as she smiled cheerfully. "Let's just call the thing a gift and leave it at that, shall we?"

"You know that's not going to be possible, Garcia," Hotch denied, shaking his head slowly as he dropped the small computer onto her nearby desk.

"Why can't you just say thank you and leave your offering at the altar of the benevolent goddess like everyone else?" Pen whined, dropping into her office chair with a plop and nodding at the small pile of candy that had built on the corner of her desk.

"Because," Hotch answered patiently, "I have to justify all our actions to the malevolent god that is our Section Chief, and she's going to want an explanation for how we've managed to obtain equipment that is now being coveted throughout the Bureau in a time of massive budget cuts."

"Sir, it's better to not ask questions when you really have no desire to know the answers. You know that old saying...ignorance is bliss."

"Garcia..." Hotch warned, narrowing his eyes.

"Honestly, Boss Man, just turn a blind eye. Just this once," Penelope winked, twirling slightly as she adjusted her chair. "You'll be a better man for it."

"I sincerely doubt that," Hotch snorted. "Just tell me, is this 'thing' going to cause me to climb out of bed at three in the morning and bail you out of jail?"

Releasing an indelicate snort, Penelope flashed the Unit Chief an affronted look. "That only happened once and we both agreed it wasn't directly my fault."

"Fine, you indirectly cost me a thousand dollars in fines, though," Hotch reminded the cheeky woman with a stern glare.

"No one's going to end up in jail," Penelope grumbled, dropping her gaze down to her folded hands. "But I DID pay you back," she pointed out, lifting her mutinous eyes back to his.

"Wouldn't you rather just tell me how you finagled these?" Hotch said, producing the small computer with a flourish.

"Two words, Sir. Plausible deniability," Garcia replied evenly.

"You didn't steal them, did you?" Hotch asked, more than certain that Penelope wasn't above commandeering materials that she thought she could put to better usages than their original intended purpose.

"I might have redirected their previous destination," Penelope admitted vaguely, waving a hand in air as if she was erasing some invisible chalkboard. "But, I can assure you that all bases have been adequately covered."

"In other words, you left an invisible trail," Hotch frowned, his earlier suspicions once again coming back to the surface.

"Let's just say that all roads now lead back to the Behavioral Analysis Unit," Penelope said with a happy smile. "And no one is the wiser."

"I don't want to know," Hotch groaned, running a hand over his tired face.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Penelope pointed out animatedly, bouncing in her seat.

"Garcia, one day you and I are going to have to have a talk about your questionable methods for achieving your goals," Hotch sighed.

"But not today?" Penelope asked hopefully, eyes widening.

"But not today," Hotch confirmed with a grudging smile before turning toward the door. Pausing, his hand on the knob, Hotch looked over his shoulder. "Oh, and Penelope?"

"Yes, sir?" Penelope asked, holding her breath as she waited for the guillotine to fall across her pretty neck.

"Nice job," Hotch acknowledged, his longtime respect for the bright woman shining in his eyes.

"Thank you, sir," Penelope breathed as her office door closed. Twirling giddily in her chair, she laughed happily. Some days it was good to be a goddess of goodness.

_**Finis**_


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